


We Need To Talk About Timmy

by AngelWithAStory



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: (spoiler alert: it's not tim), Drugs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Male Strippers, Other, Self destruction, Strippers & Strip Clubs, but not really underage, could be but i dunno, could be read as timjay, implied bisexual character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithAStory/pseuds/AngelWithAStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing he wanted to be known as would be a saint.<br/>He knew that. He embraced that.<br/>Jason Todd was no saint.<br/>But he wasn't a bad guy either.<br/>Sure, he enjoyed a nice trip to a strip club, as long as the scum treating the dancers as property instead of people soon ended up with a couple bullets inside him.<br/>Which was the plan right now, actually, until the next dancer came on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Need To Talk About Timmy

**Author's Note:**

> first off, I apologise for the shit way this has been written/handled; I have had the idea in my head for a while now and it is very late at night.  
> I apologise in advance for any and all out-of-character dialogue or description, but please do not take that as an opportunity to trash this piece of work. constructive criticism is more than welcome, but please don't be harsh for the sake of it  
> secondly, I have no fucking clue what the age of consent is in Gotham so I'm assuming it is 16. If I am wrong, I will happily mark this under 'underage'  
> thirdly, I am fudging the timeline something chronic and I do not give a shit.  
> forth, this is trash but t's brotherly trash so it's okay trash :)

The last thing he wanted to be known as would be a saint. 

He knew that. He embraced that. 

Jason Todd was no saint. 

But he wasn't a bad guy either. 

Sure, he enjoyed a nice trip to a strip club, as long as the scum treating the dancers as property instead of people soon ended up with a couple bullets inside him. 

Which was the plan right now, actually, until the next dancer came on. 

He wasn't even paying attention to the song or anyone else, because all he could focus on was the dancer...

And the fact it was _**Tim**_! Tim Drake! As in, Red Robin, the Robin after him, Tim Drake. 

His hair was dyed blue at the ends and he had subtly changed his features, but Jason knew that was him. 

Jason knew he couldn't _really_ make a scene. He needed to stop the creep running the sleazy strip-club and the latest prostitution ring with the club as the cover. 

Then again, he needed to get Tim _the hell out of there_! 

Patiently, he waited for the dance to finish, avoiding actually watching the dance number and pretending to be checking something on his phone. It wasn't like the club was female-exclusive or that he had some prejudice against the male strippers (Jason didn't mind watching the male dancers, some of them were quite enjoyable, actually), but he drew a line at watching his still-innocent, legally related younger brother perform a strip-tease. 

Once the music wound down, he had his plan formulated. 

He knew from previous intel that once the dancers did their bit, they then were contracted to walk around and either give lap dances for a couple of the patrons, or *cough* entertain them in one of the private booths. Occasionally, if the boss was paid enough, the dancers could taken home by the customer with enough cash. 

And that's how Jason was going to get Tim out of here. 

He pulled a couple bills out of his jacket pocket and waited for Tim to get near his table. 

Jason kept his head down until Tim was stood near him. 

"What can I do for you?" Tim asked, a small purr in his voice, oblivious to Jason's identity. 

"Private dance. _Now_." Jason said, his eyes snapping up to meet Tim's. He hardened his voice and he saw Tim recoil in slight fear. 

Jason got out of his seat and walked down a corridor, finding an empty booth and waited for Tim, who trailed behind him fearfully. As soon as Tim was over the threshold, Jason shut the curtains and _glared_ at Tim. 

"Explain. Now." Jason demanded. 

"It's not what you think-"

"Don't give me that bullshit. Explain to me why you are in a strip club!" Jason said, praying the private 'rooms' were soundproof. 

Tim sighed deeply, running his hands over his face. He looked very tired and he had dark circles under his eyes. 

"I'm deep undercover. Have been for a couple weeks now. Dick's got enough on his plate with Damian and there's no way the girls could get involved with something like this so I set up a fake identity and did some digging." Tim said quietly. 

"So Dick knows about what you're doing?" Jason asked. 

"No. He doesn't. I didn't tell him. Otherwise he never would have agreed." Tim said, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Of course he wouldn't! Jesus Christ, Tim!" Jason took a deep breath, collecting himself. "Aren't you fifteen or something?" Tim sighed heavily. 

"Seventeen. I'm seventeen, Jason." He corrected. 

"Because that's much better! Geez, Tim." Jason tipped his head backwards, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. "You _know_ there were other ways you could have collected the information. If there's something else going on here, I'd like to hear it. If you needed money or something-"

"Jason," Tim interrupted, "this has nothing to do with money, okay. Shit, I can't deal with this." He turned away, reaching into the pocket of his booty shorts and pulling out a small, clear bag. Jason gripped his wrist painfully tightly, ripping the bag from his grip. 

"What the _fuck_ are these?" Jason demanded, his voice dangerous.

"Jason-"

"What. The. Fuck. Is. In. The. Bag." 

"It's nothing, it's-" 

"Holy shit, Tim... Are you taking drugs now? Have you gone crazy?!" 

"It's just something to take the edge off, okay. _This_ ," Tim gestured around him, "is stressful and sometimes it helps to just be out-of-it." 

Jason gawped at him for a couple seconds. 

" _ARE YOU INSANE?!_ Holy shit, that's it, I'm getting you out of here right now!" Jason declared, opening the curtains and pulling Tim by his wrist. 

He dragged Tim through the club to the front door. A burly, balding man stepped in front of him. 

"Where do you think you're going with my property?" He asked. Jason dug out a wad of cash and shoved it in the man's hand. 

"Taking him off your hands. Permanently." Jason said, an underlying threat in his voice. 

"Now why would I let you do that?" The man asked. There was the sound of a gun cocking and the man looked at the gun nozzle pressed against his groin. 

"Because I have plenty of bullets." Jason replied. The man nodded and Jason led Tim outside, only disarming the gun once they had turned a corner. 

He tucked the gun back into it's holster and looked over at Tim. 

Tim looked awful in the fluorescent street lights. The dark bags under his eyes looked even worse and he looked even paler than normal. 

" _Shit_ Tim. You look like trash." Jason said. He tugged his leather jacket off and wrapped it around Tim's shoulders, aware that the poor shit was only wearing booty shorts and a leather-strap-thing that went under his arms and across his back. He also had these knee-high boots but overall he just looked very cold. 

"Thanks." Tim muttered, holding the jacket closer. 

"Come on, you're staying at mine to detox then you're going to sort your life out, okay?" Jason said, starting to lead Tim towards his apartment. 

"Okay." Tim agreed. 

 

 

The phone rang three times before anyone picked up. 

"Jason?"

"Dick, we need to talk about Tim." Jason stated, figuring it wasn't worth beating around the bush. 

"He's following a human-trafficking case for a couple weeks." Dick said. "Why? What's wrong?"

" _Jesus Christ, that kid is meant to be smart_." Jason muttered. 

"What?"

"Tim hasn't been following any case, he's been undercover as a male-stripper." Jason said. There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. 

"Where is he now?" Dick asked. 

"He's asleep on my couch right now. I got him out of there." Jason reassured him. 

"Wait, what were you doing in a strip club?" Dick blurt out. 

"Bigger picture here, Dickie." 

"Right, sorry. It's late. I'll come round in the morning to bring him home." Dick said. "And Jason?" 

"Yeah."

"Thank you." Well that was unexpected. "I'll be round tomorrow." 

Jason sat on the edge of his bed for a while, thinking it through. 

Yeah, he wasn't a saint, but he was a good man, right? 

Tim was curled up on the couch in the other room, a thick blanket draped over him. Jason had lent him some spare clothes and the booty shorts were deposited straight into the bin. 

Jason knew that he could deal with not being a saint. As long as he wasn't as a bad guy. 

 


End file.
